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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25950742">Counting Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficerAerynSun/pseuds/OfficerAerynSun'>OfficerAerynSun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate (1994), Stargate SG-1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Because I can, Character-swapped 'what if' of the original film, F/F, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:35:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25950742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficerAerynSun/pseuds/OfficerAerynSun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stargate Command first unlocks the secret of the mysterious Stargate, they know they have to send their best on the first reconnaissance mission. And who better than Captain Samantha Carter, their leading scientist, and Dr. Sarah Gardner, the scholar who unlocked the final piece of the puzzle? (Original Film AU)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sha'uri/Sarah Gardner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Counting Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There are a hundred similar fics, but I'd like to have my own go at it: What if instead of Jack and Daniel leading the first mission through the Stargate, the team looks slightly different? </p>
<p>I don't own Stargate, sadly, so please don't sue me. This is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>With a sharp sigh, she straightened her stack of notes before shoving them back into her briefcase. The lecture hall was empty now. She’d almost been amazed by how quickly a crowd could beat a hasty retreat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost…</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Here she was. Again. Another abject failure. Another presentation that left her colleagues’ derisive laughter ringing in her ears. Perhaps she should have expected as much. After all, laughter and dismissal had been the drumbeats of her career since… well, since she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> a career. She told herself for the hundredth time that weekend that they were all simply afraid. They were too narrow-minded to see beyond the long-taught chronologies and interpretations that had left the field of Egyptology covered in decades of intellectual dust… If only she tried harder, presented her findings more clearly next time… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Then they would come around.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, that wasn’t exactly an easy task when every penny of her funding -- not to mention her personal savings -- had nearly run dry…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a last sigh, she pulled a tired hand through blonde curls and slipped her bag over her shoulder. Halfway to the exit, her mind had already turned to other things. The hot shower waiting for her back in her hotel room, the question of just how much of the alcohol in her minibar she could afford… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to put this humiliating afternoon behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dr. Sarah Gardner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice startled her and she stopped in her tracks. Squinting, she peered into the shadowy doorway ahead. She could have sworn the voice came from that direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” she replied, a touch sharper than perhaps was warranted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It really had been a long day.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m afraid if you’ve come for the lecture, it’s already over. It turned out to be rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>shorter</span>
  </em>
  <span> than expected,” she added dryly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I know,” the voice replied. “I was watching from the back.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, the figure stepped out from the shadows and into the harsh light of the lecture hall. Sarah blinked in surprise. It was a handsome elderly woman. That in and of itself was hardly unusual for an academic conference. But there was something about her clothes -- about the almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>too-young</span>
  </em>
  <span> twinkle in her eye that hinted at something much more interesting than a life led in a dusty library somewhere. Or perhaps Sarah’s colleagues were right and she really </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have an all-too-active imagination. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah cleared her throat. “Well, in that case, unless you’d like to add something to my colleagues’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>delightful</span>
  </em>
  <span> commentary on my research, I really should be going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She made to brush past her -- but again she stopped when the older woman spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I came about your work, yes. But not to criticize. Quite the opposite.” She tilted her head, offering Sarah an intriguing ghost of a smile. “You’ve made quite the reputation for yourself, Dr. Gardner. Arguing that the pyramids at Giza are far older than the scholarly community accepts… that they were not tombs at all… and that their purpose was something far more </span>
  <em>
    <span>mysterious.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yes, I’ve been following your work for some time. And that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>precisely</span>
  </em>
  <span> why I’ve come to find you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sarah stared, unsure what to say. She’d grown so used to being the butt of every professional joke that she had no idea what to do with something that </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> sounded like… praise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brows furrowed. “Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The older woman chuckled. It was a warm sound -- the kind that washed over you and made you feel at ease. “My name is Catherine Langford. I’m here to offer you a job.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again Sarah was at a loss. “A job? What sort of a job?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The sort that will help you prove your theories are right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Catherine drew an envelope from her pocket and held it out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this?” Sarah said, still suspicious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Travel plans.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I haven’t agreed to anything yet. You haven’t even told me what --” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She broke off as the older woman placed the packet in her hand and gave it a friendly pat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you next week, Dr. Gardner.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Sarah could protest, Catherine had slipped out the door and was gone. She looked down at the envelope in her hands. It was thick and her name was printed in crisp letters across the front. In the corner was a seal she recognized. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“United States Air Force?” she muttered under her breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A part of her wanted to throw it away. Toss it in the bin and go back to her research. She understood precisely what </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was. But what on Earth could this little envelope bring her? What could the American military want with a failing English academic with no money, no status, and a visa on the verge of expiration? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But another part of her -- the stronger part that went all the way down to her bones -- itched to open it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prove her theories right</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Catherine had said. Already her mind was spinning with the possibilities… </span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She couldn’t toss this away. However rash it may be… what did she really have to lose?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Decision made, Sarah tore open the envelope with eager fingers. Inside were copies of plane reservations, a rental car receipt, and a series of detailed directions. Her eyes skimmed to the bottom for the destination:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado Springs, Colorado. <br/></span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span><br/>Squinting against the late afternoon sun, Samantha Carter stepped out onto Constitution Avenue, leaving the dim halls of the Russell Senate Office Building behind her. The fresh air was a relief -- after nearly six straight hours of meetings and highly classified hearings, she’d be happy to never set foot inside again…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam had never liked the politics that came with the uniform. She was a scientist. A pilot. She belonged in a lab or in the field -- she belonged where she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> something. And sitting through the endless grip-and-grin of the appropriations committee process was not what she considered </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But she had her orders from General West and she would follow them. She’d tried to -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>politely</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- argue that she’d be of more use working on the computer being built and programmed beneath Cheyenne Mountain…. But her superiors wanted her in Washington. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who better to sell the work to the committee than the officer who knew it best?</span>
  </em>
  <span> they’d said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so she’d come to Washington. To suffer in the sweltering late summer heat, to try and talk up what was potentially the most important research in human history.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d decided to walk home that evening. Her apartment wasn’t too far and she couldn’t stand the idea of suffering through the rush hour crowds on the metro. She could use the chance to stretch her legs, anyway -- and to clear her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truth was, she was frustrated. And no matter how she tried to bury it beneath duty and a positive attitude, she couldn’t shake the feeling. She’d worked hard to be a part of this program. She’d proven herself over and over -- and she knew where the work would be without her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably nowhere.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Of course funding was important. They’d be lost without it. But she was no politician -- and being made to play one left her feeling uncomfortable in her own skin. What did she have to do to get back to Colorado? What could she possibly </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to prove?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam reached her front steps before coming up with any answers. With a tired sigh, she unlocked the door and trudged inside. She was met with a rush of stuffy heat in her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath. Her A/C had been on the fritz for the past week -- and her landlord seemed blithely unconcerned. It was like the universe had come up with a whole bunch of cosmic jokes made just for her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It had just been that kind of day.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dropping her keys and briefcase onto the kitchen table, she made for the window and threw it open. The air was hot and sticky outside too, but at least the tiniest gasps of breeze were better than nothing. Grimacing, she began to unbutton the heavy uniform jacket that now clung to her sweatily. She mused, not for the first time, that anyone who willing chose to live with this weather was out of their mind... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shrill ring of the telephone broke the silence. Sam groaned internally. Something else had come up -- another meeting scheduled for first thing in the morning, or someone back in Cheyenne Mountain was calling for the sixth time in two days about a technical problem that needed troubleshooting… Most of the time, she’d be excited about the latter possibility. But right now, she just wanted to take a shower and sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain Carter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her shoulders straightened, falling instinctively back into her carefully trained, military posture. Even before the caller identified himself, she recognized the voice of General West’s chief of staff. “Major Saunders. I was going to call you with an update tomorrow morning on --”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it, Captain. That’s not why I’m calling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam’s brow furrowed. It was usually the research team that needed her urgently -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the General’s office. “Sir?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re calling you back to Cheyenne Mountain. Something urgent’s come up -- and Dr. Langford is requesting your presence.” It was clear from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t wild about Catherine having such pull over staff, but the decision was above his pay grade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing more he could say over the phone and Sam knew it. But if General West was bowing to Catherine’s demands… it was something </span>
  <em>
    <span>big.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Immediately, her mind rushed to a million possible conclusions -- and all of them centered on the repurposed missile silo deep below the base. Her stomach squirmed excitedly. They must have found something, made some kind of breakthrough. And it was all she could do not to tell Saunders she’d be on a plane tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, sir. I’ll cancel my meetings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You leave first thing tomorrow morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The line went dead and a broad smile split Sam’s face. Something was happening with the Stargate. Finally. After all the blood, sweat and tears they’d poured into this program. And she was going to be there to see it. She’d have to remember to keep thanking Catherine for the rest of her days -- it couldn’t have been easy to convince the General she needed her back at the base. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The uncomfortable evening heat was quickly forgotten as Sam raced through her sparse apartment, packing her few bags as quickly as she could. Soon, the swampy DC air would be behind her and she’d be back -- precisely where she belonged…<br/></span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span><br/>Another world away, a torch flickered in the darkness of a cave. The warm light illuminated a long, narrow passage that stretched off into the shadows. But the young woman who carried it already knew her way through the winding tunnels. She’d been there before -- countless times in the years since she’d first stumbled upon the place. The city above was sleeping soundly and it would be several hours before anyone noticed she wasn’t in her bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For Sha’uri, these trips had become something of a ritual. As a child, she’d first entered the forbidden catacombs on a dare -- a foolish act of bravado egged on by her younger, more </span>
  <em>
    <span>reckless</span>
  </em>
  <span> brother. And what she’d found terrified her. Symbols long-banished by their god were etched on every surface. Then, all of nine years old, she’d turned and fled, her heart full of the dire warnings repeated to her since birth. She’d run home as fast as she could, whispered prayers on her lips, begging Ra’s forgiveness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But… as days and months ticked by, the cave had lingered in her mind. Blasphemous thoughts crept in before she could stop them. Questions began to rise up from dark, curious places within her she hadn’t known existed. Soon, those symbols were all she could think about. She had to go back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so she did. Again and again. Each time she would commit something new to memory -- some stretch of wall, some group of symbols. What they meant… why they were there… She had no idea. Each visit brought new questions and frustratingly few answers. There were things she recognized. The Eye of Ra -- the same eye that gazed down at her people from above the town square. The Chappa’ai -- the intimidating circle towering over crowds of people below. But none of the familiar pieces added up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ra, his powerful gate… but what of it? What other secrets lay hidden in the forbidden writings carved into the bedrock?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A decade had passed since Sha’uri first began asking herself those questions, whispering them to nothing but the musty darkness of the caverns. She’d returned when she could -- or, more accurately, when the stifling frustrations of her daily life drove her to seek refuge in the unknown. In the caverns, surrounded by unspoken secrets, she could dream about the possibility of more. She could escape the well-trodden path of the women of Nagada and the duties she could not avoid. For a few hours, she could be alone -- to wonder, and to dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight, she made her way through the familiar passage, feet carrying her instinctively to her favorite corner. Those walls had fewer symbols, as if what was etched there had some quiet importance. When she reached the spot, she stopped. Her fingers stretched out to brush across a patch of stone. Muscle memory could trace the symbol there without hesitation. A pyramid -- two lines sloping towards each other to a point, standing beneath a small circle. It was less elaborate than some of the neighboring images, but to Sha’uri’s eyes it was more impressive than any of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What it meant, she didn’t pretend to know. And the answer would undoubtedly lay buried, forgotten to time…</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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